Beautiful Disaster
by explos-ment
Summary: An inner POV dialect from Hinata. oneshot. GaaHina.


a/n: all right, I have no idea where this story came from… I guess you could call it a drabble if you wanted to. It's also sort of a background biography thing. It's coming from Hinata's inner voice's point of view, if that even makes any sense. Also, it contains **_spoilers_** for things that will happen in Gaara's future as well as things that have happened in his past. So if you haven't read up to those parts in the manga, or you haven't seen those episodes yet, don't read it if you don't want to know anything before hand. That was your warning, now on with the show!! Err… story… yeah.

Beautiful Disaster

The first time you ever saw him show any sort of emotion, was when he was speaking of his mother. Of what his mother did to/for him. The sacrifice.

And then the flash of sadness mixed with anger in his eyes happened again when he spoke of his uncle. Of what his uncle did to him. The assassination attempt. The explosive notes and the "please die."

However, when he spoke of his father, there was no sadness, no despair. Just hate and anger and spite. His voice was laced with venom when he spoke of his father. Spoke of the assassins. How he was just used as a tool, and how his father had wanted him dead because he was a "failed experiment."

His entire village had hated and feared him because of his great power. Because of the demon that was once sealed within his body. The demon that brought upon his insomnia because he feared it would eat away at his personality. The demon, which with every night of sleeplessness, made him more and more unstable.

He in turn, began to hate the entire village. Becoming emotionally withdrawn from everyone and everything. Loathing everyone but himself.

He also began killing anyone and everyone who stood in his way. Because he needed to preserve his existence. He needed to know that he was still alive. Making his personality morph into an extreme form of existentialism.

He was a "self-loving carnage." The most perfect beautiful disaster you've ever seen. Never caring for anyone but himself, because even his mother cursed him for giving her so much pain. Because no one ever even tried to love him.

That is why he used his sand to create the "love" kanji on his forehead. He was never loved so he decided to be a "demon loving only himself."

But you know that he doesn't love only himself anymore. You know that he loves others, that he is capable of loving others.

Ever since Shukaku was extracted from his body. Ever since Naruto influenced him in a way that made him fight for others, instead of just for his self-ratification. Ever since he had burned that "love" kanji above your left breast with his sand. You knew that he was capable of love.

The people of your village had always said that you were too benevolent, too kind for your own good. Especially when you agreed to marry him. The boy from Sunagakure who had an abhorrence for the world and everyone in it. The fifth Kazekage.

Through your marriage you managed to prove everyone from your village wrong.

The once narcissistic and self-involved Gaara from Suna was able to love, and you were the first person to ever experience that love. His love. It was the most careful and tender love you've ever witnessed. Almost as if he was scared to love you. Scared that his love would hurt you in some way.

But it never did, and in turn you gave him your love. You gave him yourself, all of you.

And he accepted it. Because you're the one that keeps him sane. Keeps him safe from himself. You're the one who loves him, all of him. And he, in turn, gives you purpose. Makes you feel complete. Makes you whole.

Even now, with his head resting on your bare chest, you love him more than anything else in the world. He quietly drifted to sleep while both of you were basking in the afterglow. And these are the moments that you enjoy the most. Softly raking your fingers through his hair, lightly grazing his scalp with your nails, you notice something. The kanji on his forehead is almost perfectly aligned with that on your chest. And you smile softly in self-satisfaction.

a/n: Okay, about the whole "most careful and tender" thing… The computer kept trying to replace it with carefulest and tenderest, which aren't words… So yeah, I had to stick with what I have.


End file.
